


Fortune

by operatorrhythmi



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)
Genre: F/F, Implied Sexual Content, POV Second Person, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-26 06:59:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6228448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/operatorrhythmi/pseuds/operatorrhythmi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Cynthia Jenness, and you’re the new champion of the Sinnoh Region.  Fortune and fame now come at you faster than anything you could have ever imagined.<br/>How you got into this mess, you’ll never know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> here, have a quick lil fic for my favorite ladies~  
> inspired by the song The Lucky One by Taylor Swift

 

            Sunlight filtered through the tinted windows of the limo, hardly warming your skin. You tell yourself to get used to it. This is your life now.

            Today’s schedule, for now, is to meet up with your new manager. After a falling out with your previous one, the thought of meeting a new one leaves you with mild anxiety.

            “Ready to go?” The driver asks.

            You nod, taking in the moment of calm before your door is opened.

            Stepping out into the sea of camera flashes, you give a practiced wave as you go down the fenced off strip. Your name is shouted as people vie for even a second of your attention. People’s fascination with those deemed famous was fascinating.

            By the time you make it into the building, all you can see if one big flash in your vision.

            “Camera flashes make it look like a dream, don’t they?” A voice asks you.

            Giving yourself a few seconds to blink away the flashes, you then focus on the petite woman standing in front of you.

            Her blue eyes strain to look up at you, but as small as she was, you felt her eyes stare through you. Something about the look was familiar, and when you really took her in, something about her entirely was familiar. You couldn’t place it though.

            She introduces herself as Carnet Oris, but you already knew that. By her accent, you know she’s from Kalos. She’s far from home, and you wonder why Sinnoh of all regions.

            “Well, we have a lot to discuss, so I suggest you follow me.” She turns her back to you, casting a glance over her shoulder.

            The look in her eye tells you you’re in for a ride.

           

           

 

 

            “I’m warning you now, Cynthia: Your lover downstairs doesn’t even know you, and you don’t know him.”

            The ‘warning’ as she calls it, stops you in your tracks. “He’s not my ‘lover’, Carnet. He’s Steven Stone. The Hoenn champion?” You remind her.

            She just raises her eyebrows and shrugs. “Sure, sure.” She waves her hand at you, and her tone almost insights anger in you. She was always so suspicious of your every move. At least your previous manager didn’t monitor your every move like a mother with their first child.

            “Heed my warning,” she says, before you turn away from her and leave.

            The two of you were going out as fellow champions. He was in the region and invited you to dinner. Carnet had even agreed earlier that it would be good publicity, so why was she suddenly against it?

           

 

 

            By the end of the night, you found yourself tangled together in a mess of pent up frustration. What you wanted out of it you weren’t even sure, but _damn_ was Steven good at what he did.

 

 

            In hindsight, acting like a pair of hormone-ridden teenagers with the champion of another region might not have been the best idea. In the moment, it was the best idea. It was a perfect idea with a perfect outcome.

            Now, sitting with your makeup artists, grumbling to themselves while working on a certain mark by your collarbone, you realize it was probably a bad idea. At least, bad in the sense that you shouldn’t have done that the night before a photo-shoot.

            “I have a question for you, my dear Cynthia.”

            _Dear_ Cynthia. That was new.

            “Yes, Carnet?” You reply, keeping still in your chair.

            She’s holding a magazine, flipping through its contents. “My English is failing me at the moment, so help me out.” You keep your eyes on her. “What is the term for…a hurried marriage?” She stars waving her hands around, trying to find the words. “For when one is pregnant?”

            She narrow your eyes, trying not to laugh. “Are you trying to say shotgun wedding?”

            She drops the magazine in her lap, clasping her hands together. “Yes! A shotgun wedding!” It took everything in you to not laugh as that came out of her very Kalosian mouth. “When is it?” She follows up.

            You pause. “Excuse me?”

            She turns the cover of her magazine to you. It was an ugly tabloid. One that reeked of false news reports, but it had your picture on the front. You walking next to Steven, and some words splattered in red across the front page.

            You hadn’t realized how fast magazines worked. It had only been a few hours since you were walking down the street with him.

            “I didn’t know it was possible to be three months pregnant with a man you just met!”

            You hear your makeup artist snicker before standing up. She’s taken this as her cue to leave you two alone. You don’t know if you really want to be alone with Carnet now…

            “Well?” Carnet repeated.

            “ _You_ know I’m not pregnant,” you tell her.

            She bats her eyes at you before standing. “You better hope you’re not after last night.”

            You shift around in your seat, not willing to answer her.

            “I’m not stupid, Cynthia. I know you’re not pregnant, and I like to think you’re smart about your activities with others. I just want you to know that there are consequences to everything you do from now on. Anybody with a penis who comes near you will suddenly become the father of some child you didn’t know you were having, and you’ll be in a relationship left and right in the eye of the public. You can do no wrong, but you can also do no right.”

            Even though you didn’t like what you were hearing, there was such an air of…wisdom…in her voice; you knew it would be stupid to ignore her. You didn’t like it, but you had to learn that, yes, there were consequences to everything.

            While you let that sink in, you wondered…was this the life for you? Were you cut out for this?

            “Anyways,” Carnet derails, “I think you need to be battling more. You’ve been slacking off. You may be the strongest trainer for now, but there’s always someone looking to take you off your throne.” You wouldn’t exactly call it a throne, but you understood her.

            Standing up, you waited for her to approach you. “Why don’t you battle me?” You half expected her to refuse. You knew she had pokémon, but you weren’t even sure of her team.

            Instead, she laughed. It was genuine, too. “Oh, Cynthia, I don’t think you want to face me. You wouldn’t want me to be the one who dethrones you.”

            So, she was confident in her battling abilities.

            “You think you could beat me?” You ask.

            She smiles up at you. “I would wipe the floor with you.” She winks, and heads off ahead of you.

            It almost drove you insane how much you didn’t know about her. Sometimes, you even wondered if Carnet was really her name. There was no reason to think otherwise, but there was something about her that said that wasn’t her real name. Something so familiar, you knew you would be upset once you put it all together.

            “With that kind of attitude, I expect a battle from you someday,” you tell her, once you begin to follow.

            Carnet casts you a look. “One day, dear Cynthia.”

            There it was again.

 

 

           

            “You like space and mythology, correct?” Carnet asked you.

            You paused for a second, thinking over the answer. While, yes, space and mythology were a part of your interests, it was a little more complicated than that. “Sure,” you answer, figuring that would suffice.

            “How about this dress?” She asks, flipping her tablet around. The dress was gaudy, adorned with a galaxy print.

            You laugh. “Never.”

            She pouts. “I think you would look lovely,” she tells you. “Granted,” she looks you up and down, and something about the gesture makes you hot under the collar. “Anything on you looks stunning. You’ve got the perfect figure.”

            She’s been very complimentary lately. You figured by now it would have gotten old, but it hasn’t. Not in the least.

            “The best part of that outfit would be taking it off.”

            Her mouth turns into a smile. “I should think so,” she tells you.

            You feel your face go warm, and you’re at loss for words. Between her tone and her look that could only be described as sultry, you can’t speak.

            For a split second, you see her eyes widen ever so slightly. You realize that she’s realized she’s crossed a boundary. Where she’ll go with it next, not even you know.

            “Alors,” she continues, turning away form you. It was a habit you noticed. When she was embarrassed, she would quickly slip back into French. It didn’t happen often, but it had been happening more and more.

            She rattled on for who knows how long, before finally realizing that she was no longer speaking English.

            “Damn,” she grumbles. “You know what you have to do today. You know how to reach me if needed.”

            She didn’t look at you as she left, but something told you that your face wasn’t the only one warm.

           

 

 

            Carnet sits next to you, staring out the car’s window. She’s been strangely silent. You can’t even remember if she said good morning to you earlier or not. Finally, “I won’t be going with you to Kalos.”

            It shocked you. The Pokémon League’s International Meeting was supposed to be in Kalos. You figured she would be excited to return to her home region.

            “Why?” You ask.

            She keeps her eyes out the window. You had never seen her look so somber. “I just will not. I will not return to Kalos. I cannot.” She’s rambling. “You don’t need me, anyways. You know how to handle your own.”

            The answer doesn’t satisfy you. You turn in your seat to face her as best you can. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s the entire answer.”

            She shakes her head and sighs. She doesn’t continue.

            You both sit in uncomfortable silence.

            Leaving it on this note would make you sick. “Will you finally battle me?” You ask.

            “If you don’t mind losing.” There was her teasing tone again.

            You were curious of her team, and what it would tell you of her. Of who she really was.

           

           

            Your one-on-one battle ended in a draw. Even though you and Garchomp had a disadvantage to her Gardevoir, you fought with your all.

            Carnet’s skill with her Gardevoir impressed you. She hardly spoke, but they were in perfect sync.

            When she strode up to you, hand on her hip, you found yourself at loss for words once more.

            “Well?” She asked.

            You didn’t mean to say it out loud, but it happened anyway. “You’re incredible.”

            She smiled at you, and it was so soft the way she looked at you. Months ago, you never would have expected such a kind look from her. You forgot when she changed from looking through you, to looking _at_ you.

           

 

 

            Carnet saw you off at the airport, and while distracted by other members of your league who traveled with you, you couldn’t shake off the distanced look in her eyes.

           

 

            Mingling with the members of other leagues was every bit of uncomfortable as you imagined it would be. Seeing Steven wasn’t as bad, but you didn’t feel any of the fervent heat from your first encounter.

            Eventually, you got around to speaking with the Kalos Elite Four. You find Siebold and their new champion to be the easiest to talk to.

            “Sometimes I worry I won’t stand up to the former champion,” Serena, the Kalos champion started, staring out to at the crowd of people.

            Siebold hummed, taking a sip of his drink. “You’re still a new champion. It’s only natural you be nervous at these kind of events.”

            “I didn’t say I was nervous,” she grumbled.

            He shrugged. “You implied it. It’s why I’m doing the welcome speech for you. It’s rare for a new champion to make the welcome speech, anyways.”

            “Didn’t Diantha rarely make it, though?” Serena asked.

            The name stuck out to Cynthia.

            He nodded. “She was busy. Being a movie star on top champion left her with torn responsibilities.”

            “Pardon me for not knowing,” you began, “Things made it slowly to Sinnoh. Who was Diantha?”

            Serena grabbed for her phone. “The former champion! She was super famous here in Kalos! She was so strong. I barely beat her.” She scrolled through its contents, looking for a certain picture.

            Peering over her shoulder, she watched as she pulled up a picture of a woman. “This was her,” Serena told her.

            “Her last movie was titled ‘Forever’. Though, I think ‘My Sweet Lady’ was one of her most famous,” Siebold added.

            It took everything in you to remain neutral. Surly the woman in the picture wasn’t…

            “She was the champion about two years ago. I beat her, and…I don’t know. I think I broke her,” Serena mumbled.

            You look to Siebold to see his reaction, but he’s now looking away. “What do you mean?” You ask, too curious to leave it at that.

            Serena put her phone away before continuing. “Her film career came to an end for no reason. Then, I beat her, and she had to sit as acting champion until I was processed through about a year ago. She…disappeared after that? There’s rumors about where she’s at, but nobody really knows for sure.” Though, as she said that, she looked to Siebold.

            You figure Siebold does know, and you realize you probably know as well.

           

 

 

            A week later, on your flight back, you finally allow yourself to do some research on Diantha Ruston. The more you do, the more you almost wish you hadn’t.

            Because, finally, you realize what it is that Carnet had been hiding from you.

 

 

 

            When you returned to Sinnoh, it was snowing. Nothing new. Even in the middle of summer, some parts of Sinnoh remained snow-covered.

            When Carnet greeted you at the airport, you didn’t know what to say to her, so you said nothing.

            You knew she noticed, and it hurt to give her the cold shoulder, but you didn’t know what else to do.

            Was it even legal for her to be lying about her name to you? You weren’t sure.

 

 

 

            Finally, after two weeks of near silence between the two of you, she finally came to you in your off time.

            She calls you by name, and it hurts because you still don’t know how to refer to her.

            “May we talk?” She asks.

            You invite her to sit on the couch with you.

            She takes a deep breath. “My dear Siebold tells me he has spoken to you, and so I’m sure you have put everything together. I’m…I’m sorry I never told you the truth about who I am. I’ve just been so ashamed. Believe me, I’ve wanted to!”

            You stop her rambling. “I’m not mad, Diantha. I’m just…really confused. Why hide who you are?”

            She smiled, bitterly. “Like I said, I was ashamed. My career went down the drain, and then I lost my title as champion. I was tired of how I was portrayed by the media. Having been a celebrity, I felt like I might be able to at least protect some new talent. It was a coincidence that you chose me. Not only was a managing and protecting a celebrity, I was protecting a fellow champion.”

            “Thank you,” was all you could think to say. You weren’t mad at her, and you never really were. Confusion clouded everything, and you knew that, with time, you would really understand her. You had an understanding of the situation, but not completely.

            All would be forgiven. That much you were sure of.

 

 

           

            Things easily fell back into rhythm once the whole ordeal was behind you. You were even willing to say that things between the two of you were better. She was acting far more open with you, and while maybe it crossed the lines of the sort of relationship you were supposed to have with your manager, you wouldn’t complain.

            Sitting with her at the league, waiting to see if you were going to be summoned by the challenger making their way through your elite four, she passes you a magazine.

            “Look at that! So attractive you’re making gay men question themselves!”          

            You groan as you take it from her hands.

            “Page 17,” she tells you.

            Flipping through the pages, you come to find that you are apparently in a relationship with Aaron of your elite four. “Well, he better not propose, because Cynthia Adams doesn’t suit me.”

            Diantha giggles in response.

            “Then again,” you continue, placing the magazine on the coffee table, “Jenness has never sounded right, either.”

            Diantha grins lasciviously. “It doesn’t quite fit you, does it? You should take mine.”

            You watch as color immediately floods into her cheeks and she stands up to hide her face from you.

            Words fail you. You want to say something, anything, but you can barely form a coherent thought.

            “I’m,” she begin to nervously gesture her hands around, “going to…to check your afternoon appointments! To see if there are any!” With that, she heads off, grumbling in French to herself.

            While your first thought lingers on her flirty remark that was all but a proposal, your next thought is that you really need to talk to Fantina sometime. You recognize some words that are similar to English words, and others from popular sayings. However, you can’t help but wonder what she’s really saying.

            Lucian enters the main gathering area, and takes notice of your perplexed expression. “Are you feeling alright?” He asks.

            It takes a second for you to respond.

            How _did_ you feel?

            Flustered. Definitely flustered.

 

 

 

            For nearly two more years life continues in that fashion. It goes from a slow tiptoeing of the fine line between manager and champion relationship, to regularly bypassing that line completely. Flirty remarks and lingering touches are now commonplace between the two of you.

            To some degree, it’s driving you mad.

            With each challenger who faces you, you pray to Arceus that the next one will finally dethrone you. They never do, and you’re getting closer and closer to just throwing the matches each time.

            Maybe, just maybe, if you got away from the stardom and championship, you could run away from it all, like Diantha had, and live a life of grandeur together.

            Of course, there was no guarantee it would be like that. There was no guarantee that Diantha would reciprocate your feelings. Her flirting could just be that: meaningless flirting.

            But there was also the chance she would feel the same. That you both could live that life of grandeur wherever you saw fit.

            It was all a fictitious idea, but it was certainly one you loved to entertain.

 

 

 

            “I’ll give you three guesses as to what the newest tabloids are saying about you, dear Cynthia.” She holds three magazines as she stands in front of you in your hotel suit.

            The thought of seeing another magazine makes you sick, but you’ll play her game because it’s far more entertaining than thinking about the upcoming interviews. It’s far more entertaining to look at the woman in front of you who is now sitting on your mattress, and it takes everything in you to derail yourself from the thought of pushing her back against it.

            _“What? That I’m basically having an illicit relationship with my manager?”_ You almost say. It took everything in you to not say it. “Surprise me,” you say instead.

            “Not interested in playing my games?” She asks, batting her eyes at you.

            The thought persists, but you manage to fight against it. “Trust me, I’m interested,” you tell her.

            She laughs in that honeyed tone you can’t get enough of. “How about this one then?” She continues, handing you a magazine that looks Kalosian in origin. “I was surprised to find they had an international section! It’s even translated!”

            You flip through its pages, and are surprised when you see a picture of Diantha. It was a few years old, but it was her nonetheless.

            “I didn’t read into it too much. I wanted to be surprised! Tell me, are they still telling legends of how I disappeared? How I took my money and got the hell out?” She asks.

            You’re amused by her enthusiasm. You then wonder how long it’s been since she was in a magazine. Probably awhile considering her excitement.

            Giving yourself some time to read it, you take a seat next to her, finishing up the story. You hand it back to her. “Well, they’re speculating that you bought a bunch of land somewhere in the countryside of Kalos. You picked the rose garden over Lumiose City.”

            She giggles again. You have to grip the comforter to keep your composure.

            “ _Krigia biflora_ , actually,” she says.

            You give her a questioning look.

            “It’s a type of flower. If there were any garden of flowers I picked over Lumiose City, it would be those, not roses.”

            She liked to tease you about your knowledge in astronomy, and you knew you were going to have to tease her over her weird knowledge of flowers. Maybe not now, though. With the two of you sitting so close, that kind of teasing might ruin the mood.

            “I think you had it right,” you tell her.

            She gives you a slight tilt of the head.

            “At first, I didn’t really understand giving up stardom, but now, after all the tabloids and unwanted attention, I think I get it. I’m realizing that maybe this isn’t what I want in life.”

            She leans in closer, and you’re finding it very tempting to just close the distance. But you won’t. Not just yet, anyways. “What is it you’re wanting then, dear Cynthia?”

            _You, you, it’s always you_ , you want to tell her. It’s so much more difficult than you imagined it being. “I’m going to be stupid and tell you there’s only one thing I want at the moment.” The “you” was implied.

            Her half-lidded stare was going to be your undoing you were sure of it. When she asked to kiss you, you consent by kissing her with all the pent up frustration that had been growing since you two met.

            When she ended up in your lap, you knew _that_ was your undoing. Anything from there forward you couldn’t go back on, but you knew you wouldn’t want to. With her hands in your hair, you knew there wasn’t anything more you wanted than her, and whatever the future with her would bring.

            The night ended with you, instead, on your back, and her on top of you. Her dress hiked up, giving you the perfect view of her lacy undergarments. Out of breath, she sat up, taking away the view.

            You sit up with her, giving her time to adjust so she’s sitting on your lap again. She leans in to kiss the bridge of your nose, and you can’t help but smile as she pulls away.

            “I should get going. Otherwise, I would selfishly keep you up all night,” she tells you. You’re desperate to ask her to stay, but you know what she says is true.

            “Fair enough.”

            She wraps her arms around your neck. With yours around her waist, you felt content to stay there as long as possible.

            Eventually, she does get up, fixing her dress as you walk her to the door. Once in the hallway, she looks around before whipping back around to pull you down into one last kiss for the night.

            “I’ll see you in the morning, dear Cynthia,” she tells you.

            “Goodnight, Diantha,” you respond, watching her walk down the hall.

            Closing your door, you walk to your suitcase to find some clothes to sleep in. You notice there’s the slightest spring in your step, and you have to laugh at yourself. Feeling that giddy and excited was so refreshing.  

 

 

 

            Sitting in the green room with Diantha, you notice her carefully clipping her nails. “I know these aren’t your favorite things, but do try to have fun,” she tells you, finishing her thumb.

            You reach into your bag, pulling out a nail file. “Here,” you say, handing it to her.

            She thanks you as she takes it, but pauses to look at your own hands. Her painted lips rise into a smile and she shakes her head. “Are you teasing me, dear Cynthia?” She asks.

            Your name is called before you can answer. Rising from your seat, you shrug. “Me? _Never_.”  

 

 

 

            Talk shows were terrible.

            Studio audiences were terrible.

            The fact that those two tended to go hand in hand was enough to give you a headache. You would suffer through it, though. Thankfully, you didn’t have to do them often. Counting this one, you had done maybe seven.

            However, all seven hosts always ended up asking you the same question.

            “So, is there anyone special in your life at the moment?”

            You would, normally, laugh it off and say that there wasn’t. However, now, that wasn’t so true. While, sure, you and Diantha were nothing official, the charged air between you two all morning was enough to say there was _something_.

            “You could say that,” you carefully answer.

            The host and studio audience were equally excited by your answer. “Really now? Do tell!” The host urged.

            You laugh. “Unfortunately, I won’t be saying much more at the moment.”

            “A secret romance? Now that’s exciting!”

            The sooner this ended the sooner you could beg Diantha to never book another talk show interview again.

            When it was finally over, you hurried back to the green room before anyone could potentially stop you to ask any further questions.

            “I can already hear the tabloids printing,” Diantha joked, sitting on the couch.

            “Let’s go,” you tell her, shaking your head. “I’m done with this, and I’m ready to get out of this dress.”

            The dress. The dress you swore you would never wear. While, not exactly the one Diantha had picked out years ago, it was still terrible. The only reason you wore it was you couldn’t say no to the look Diantha gave you a few weeks ago, and a promise is a promise.

            Back at the hotel, Diantha followed you up to your floor. “Do you need any help getting out of that?” She asked.

            Your neck burned from the question, but her tone was innocuous enough that you knew she didn’t mean anything by it. “Yes, I won’t be able to get the zipper in the back,” you tell her.

            She follows you to your room, where once the door is closed, you turn your back to her and pull your hair out of the way.

            Her footsteps are barely noticeable as she crosses the floor to you. She grabs the zipper and eases it down. You use your free hand to keep the front of the dress from falling as she steps away.

            “Well,” she begins as you turn around to face her, “my intention wasn’t to undress you, but it seems I’ve done just that. My apologies.” There was nothing on her face that said she was truly sorry.

            “Really? I seem to recall someone agreeing that getting out of this dress would be the best part,” you tease.

            She smiles, crossing her arms. “Okay, it wasn’t my intention _just yet_. You still have a dinner to go to, and I won’t make you late.”

           “That’s still a few hours away,” you remind her.

           

 

 

            You ended up being late.

 


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your name is Diantha Ruston, and your career is spiraling out of control.

            The latest film you starred in titled “Forever” didn’t receive the reviews you had hoped it would. It wasn’t your favorite film you starred in, but you had hoped that it would have turned out better than an overall six out of ten stars.

            Sitting with your manager Kathi Lee, you handed the review back to her. “Maybe we just need to try something new,” she suggested.

            The thing was, you already had. You even starred in a horror movie. That one received better reviews than “Forever”, but only by a slim margin. There wasn’t much else you could do that you felt wouldn’t be trying too hard.  

            “I think,” you paused. Finishing the sentence was going to kill you. “I think it’s time for me to quit.”

            You look to your manager who is staring wide-eyed at you. “Diantha! That’s crazy! A few bad films doesn’t mean it’s time to quit!”

            Looking away from her eases your anxiety enough to speak. “I’m sorry, Kathi Lee. I’ve seen the trends. We’ve both read the articles. I’m old, and old news.”

            You can feel her grimace. “You’re twenty-six, Diantha. That’s _hardly_ old. If you’re old, then I’m _ancient_.”

            “How was it growing up with Archen at your doorsteps?” You laugh as she smacks your shoulder with the review.

            “I’m not here for your stupid comments! I’m here to be serious. Quitting now is a terrible idea,” she tells you. You’ll be hard pressed to see it that way, unfortunately.

            You face her again. “Quitting now while I’m still relatively on top is my best option. I’m still the league champion, at the very least.”

            The two of you argue about the decision for over a month. It takes a lot of convincing on your part.

            A year later, a girl named Serena pulls what you have left of your throne out from under you. While you didn’t have to surrender the title to her, you did. After going so many years undefeated, it was the final blow to your pride.

            Siebold and Augustine tried to convince you to stay, but the humiliation ate at you while you sat as acting champion. That year was absolute torture. So, you took what little bit of dignity you still had and ran.

            Unova was out of the question. You were just as famous there as in Kalos.

            Hoenn was an option, but with your film “Hoenn Holiday”, you didn’t want to risk anybody knowing you there.  

            Kanto and Johto were a good option, but you felt no draw to either regions.

            Sinnoh was your only option. The population was sparse in comparison to Kalos, and your films never really made it over there. Hiding away in the mountains sounded like a decent idea, but there was always the risk of cabin fever.

            Maybe you could become a manager to some new talent. Maybe you could protect someone more than Kathi Lee had ever protected you.

           

 

 

            Normally, it would be the celebrity who had a made up name, not their agent. You, however, wanting to minimize the risk of exposure, now went by Carnet Oris.

            You didn’t think that finding a person to manage would be very easy. You didn’t know what the talent out of Sinnoh was like, and with the smaller population, surly it would take a good amount of time.

            However, the opposite came true. The word was put out that the new Sinnoh League Champion had a falling out with her manager, and was now in need of a new one. The opportunity was almost too perfect. The thought of protecting a champion was too tempting.

            Her response was immediate. She accepted to meet you the next day. It was absolute serendipity.

            You prayed she would accept you being her manager.

           

 

           

            Standing in the grand hall of the office building you had rented space in, you waited for her. You had done a little research on her, but knowing what your own profile said about you, and knowing yourself, you were eager to get to know what she was really like.  

            Eventually, she walked in, stunned from all the photographs.

            You smile to yourself, remembering the feeling. “Camera flashes make it look like a dream, don’t they?” You speak.

            It takes her a few seconds to gather herself as she blinks away the flashes.

            She’s much taller than you expected, and she’s absolutely gorgeous. Instantly, you’ve committed yourself to protecting her.

            “Well, we have a lot to discuss, so I suggest you follow me.” You throw her a glance as you turn away from her.

            You’re in for a ride, and you couldn’t be more excited.

 

 

 

            For the longest time, you realize, your own tone and reactions undermine your real excitement. You’ve allowed yourself to slip into the mask of a manager. Sure, you two joke around every now and then, but you’ve allowed yourself to act too much like Kathi Lee.

            It was time for a change…but not before giving Cynthia her fist lesson in being a celebrity.

            “I’m warning you now, Cynthia: Your lover downstairs doesn’t even know you, and you don’t know him.”

            Your warning stops her. She looks to you, and gives you an incredulous look. “He’s not my ‘lover’, Carnet. He’s Steven Stone. The Hoenn Champion?”

            Of course you knew that. The two of you knew one another, and it was why you were refraining from meeting him, lying about catching up on work. You couldn’t risk letting Cynthia know who you were just yet. She didn’t need to know that the embarrassment of Kalos was her manager.

            You just shrug in response. “Sure, sure.” Waving your hand, you dismiss her. “Heed my warning,” you say just before she’s left your office.

            You weren’t stupid. You knew exactly how the night was going to go down. It would start out innocent enough, but you had seen this exact scene play out plenty of times before.

            Steven, that beautifully oblivious man, being the heartthrob of Hoenn that he was would easily charm Cynthia. Not that she wouldn’t be just as charming, if not more in your opinion.

            They would make a nice power couple, though.

 

 

            The next morning you find yourself running late while on your way to meet with Cynthia for her photo shoot. Before you cross the busy street of downtown Hearthome, a small magazine stand catches your attention. What attracts you most is the front cover of a gaudy tabloid.   

            It was almost too perfect. You lesson was moving far faster than you could have dreamed.

            You buy it from the man and laugh your way to the studio.

            By the time you get to her, she’s already with the makeup artist. “I have a question for you, my dear Cynthia,” you ask, sitting away from her.

            “Yes, Carnet?” She responds, trying not to disturb the artist too much.    

            You flip through the pages again, if only to be dramatic. “My English is failing me at the moment, so help me out.” That wasn’t a complete lie. The phrase was on the tip of your tongue, but you just couldn’t place it. “What is the term for…a hurried marriage? For when one is pregnant?”

            Her eyes narrow at you, and she’s trying her hardest to not laugh. “Are you trying to say shotgun wedding?”

            The magazine falls into your lap as you clap your hands together. “Yes! A shotgun wedding!” The phrase was just as ridiculous as you had hoped. “When is it?” You ask.

            Her smile vanishes. “Excuse me?”

            Picking up the magazine, you show her the cover. “I didn’t know it was possible to be three months pregnant with a man you just met!”

            The makeup artist snickers to herself before taking her leave. It’s just the two of you now.

            “Well?”

            “ _You_ know I’m not pregnant,” she tells you.

            It takes everything in you to not laugh as you rise form your seat. “You better hope you’re not after last night.” She better not think you didn’t notice the mark on her neck. Everything had gone exactly as you predicted.

            She shifts around, unwilling to respond to you. It was a hard lesson to learn.

            “I’m not stupid, Cynthia. I know you’re not pregnant, and I like to think you’re smart about your activities with others. I just want you to know that there are consequences to everything you do from now on. Anybody with a penis who comes near you will suddenly become the father of some child you didn’t know you were having, and you’ll be in a relationship left and right in the eye of the public. You can do no wrong, but you can also do no right.”

            It’s easy to see she doesn’t like what she’s hearing, but you were speaking from the heart. Kathi Lee hadn’t taught you that lesson. You had to learn it on you own, so you kept making the mistake early on. You wouldn’t let Cynthia make that mistake over and over again.

            “Anyways,” you derail, figuring the lesson had gone on enough, “I think you need to be battling more. You’ve been slacking off. You may be the strongest trainer for now, but there’s always someone looking to take you off your throne,” you tell her, approaching her.       

            The makeup artist did a good job, but you might need to give her your scarf if she doesn’t want her little rendezvous getting out.

            “Why don’t you battle me?” She asks.

            The suggestion took you by surprise, making you laugh. It was probably the first time you had laughed so genuinely since arriving in Sinnoh. “Oh, Cynthia, I don’t think you want to face me. You wouldn’t want me to be the one who dethrones you.” That, and you didn’t want to give yourself away. Gardevoir still had her charm on her, and with her being your signature it stood the chance of being a dead-giveaway.

            Maybe you didn’t have to battle with Gardevoir, but Cynthia at least deserved your best.

            “So, you think you could beat me?” She asks.

            You smile at her. “I would wipe the floor with you.” Winking, you leave ahead of her.

            “With that kind of attitude, I expect a battle form you someday,” she tells you, finally catching up.

            Glancing at her, you realize you can’t say no. “One day, dear Cynthia.”

 

 

            With Cynthia’s next photo shoot coming up fast, you were desperately scouring the internet for a dress she might wear. With the summer months upon you, it had to fit the season. At first you considered a warm blue dress you found, but one of the related dresses was too perfect to pass up.

            “You like space and mythology, correct?” You ask her.

            She’s quiet as she thinks over her answer. “Sure.”

            “How about this dress?” You ask, flipping your tablet around for her to see.

            She instantly laughs, and you swear you’ve never heard a sweeter sound.

            “Never,” she responds.

            You had expected the answer, but you still pout at her. “I think you would look lovely. Granted,” Recovering from the pout was easy as you gave her a look over. “Anything on you looks stunning. You’ve got the perfect figure.” It wasn’t a lie. Her height was an absolute gift to the modeling world. It’s almost a shame that she wasn’t a model full-time, or at the very least, famous sooner.

            “The best part of that outfit would be taking it off.”

            You smile at her. The opportunity was too perfect and you couldn’t pass it up when it was handed to you like that. “I should think so.” The second that’s out of your mouth you realize your tone was far too flirty, and maybe you shouldn’t have taken the chance, but it’s so difficult to stop looking at her.

            Turning away from her, you slip back into French as you ramble on about the situation. It was something you did often. You knew she wasn’t going to understand a word of what you were saying, so it was a good coping method.

            “Damn,” you grumble, forcing yourself out of the situation. “You know what you have to do today. You know how to reach me if needed.”

            You couldn’t look back at her. Your face was far too warm to not be showing any color.

 

 

 

            Months easily roll by, and at the end of summer, like every year, the Pokémon League’s International Meeting was to be held. You prayed and prayed it would be in any other region than Kalos or Unova, but of course, it was to be held in Kalos.

            The thought of returning was a nice one. Seeing your dear Siebold and Augustine would have made you very happy, but the thought of that world seeing you again was too much.

            It also didn’t help that you were sure that Cynthia was now bound to discover your little secret. You weren’t sure what would be the worst way: through members of your former league, or the possibility of an in-flight movie starring you.

            Probably the movie.

            You wanted to tell Cynthia before she had the chance to find out on her own, but every time you tried, the words were stuck in your mouth. It was immature of you to think that she would be too angry with you. Surly the two of you wouldn’t have one of those moments from romance films where the secret causes a huge rift between the two of you.

            That was probably the worst possible outcome.

            Finally, sitting in the car with her, you find yourself able to at least tell her something. “I won’t be going with you to Kalos.”

            “Why?” She asks.

            You can’t face her. “I just will not. I will not return to Kalos. I cannot.” You refuse to face your failure. “You don’t need me, anyways. You know how to handle your own.”

            She turns to face you, and you know she’s not satisfied with the answer.

            “Somehow, I don’t think that’s the entire answer.” If only she knew.

            After some time, she asks, “Will you finally battle me?”

            You aren’t sure what prompted the question, but it brings a smile to your face. “If you don’t mind losing.”

            A one on one battle couldn’t hurt. It had been such a long time since you had battled, anyways. You could use the practice.

 

 

            The battle ended in a draw. Shame washed over you, and it took all your years of acting experience to not show it. It had been so long that your mental connection with Gardevoir was suffering. You even had to call a few moves because you weren’t in sync.

            Walking up to Cynthia, you ask, “Well?”    

            She smiles at you. “You’re incredible.”       

            You return her smile, and find yourself a little lost in the moment. No words were exchanged, so you just enjoyed looking at her. Warmth worked its way over your body, and you knew it wasn’t just from the afternoon sun.

 

 

            The entire week Cynthia was gone you found yourself a little lost. Sitting in your sparse apartment with nothing to do was bad for your anxiety. The brief snow showers kept you inside. It wasn’t an element you were used to. Kalos received snow, but not at the end of summer.

            Sinnoh was strange, and without Cynthia, it was even more strange.

            Lying on your bed, you realized you probably weren’t supposed to miss her this much. Not as her manager, anyways.

 

 

            Cynthia’s return was without delay, and as you waited for her at the airport, your excitement to see her was quickly crushed as she refused to say anything to you.

            She knew. She had to have. She had to have figured out your lie.

            That night, you received a call from Siebold. While it was nice to hear his voice, you wish it hadn’t been telling you that your fear was confirmed. Serena had been the one to expose your secret. She hadn’t meant to, so you couldn’t be mad at her.

            You could only be mad at yourself.

            It took two weeks for you to finally be able to confront her about it.

            “May we talk?”

            She invites you to sit with her on the couch. You make sure to keep a certain distance between the two of you. You’ve never seen her angry, and you pray it’s not explosive. “My dear Siebold tells me he has spoken to you, and so I’m sure you have put everything together. I’m…I’m sorry I never told you the truth about who I am. I’ve just been so ashamed. Believe me, I’ve wanted to!” The shame you feel is overwhelming.

            “I’m not mad, Diantha. I’m just…really confused. Why hide who you are?” She asks, stopping your rambling.

            Your smile is bitter and forced. “Like I said, I was ashamed. My career went down the drain, and then I lost my title as champion. I was tired of how I was portrayed by the media. Having been a celebrity, I felt like I might be able to at least protect some new talent. It was a coincidence that you chose me. Not only was a managing and protecting a celebrity, I was protecting a fellow champion.”

            There was still more to tell her, but for now, it was a start.

            “Thank you.”

            Her response surprises you more than anything. You expected her to demand you leave and never come back, not to thank you.

            The realization that everything would be okay almost makes you cry.

 

 

 

            The rhythm between the two of you that followed was far better than it had ever been. The fact that you didn’t have to hide your past from her felt liberating. With that out of the way, you allowed yourself to be far more open with her, and she did the same with you.

            Sure, maybe you were now crossing the lines of manager and client relationships, but it wasn’t just you crossing that line. Cynthia regularly crossed it as well. Maybe you were getting too comfortable with it, but those were just maybes.

            Sitting with her in the league’s conference room, you waited with her to see if she was going to be challenged. The last you heard, the challenger had made it past Flint, but you felt safe in assuming Lucian would have no trouble taking care of them.

            The magazine in your hands shouldn’t have been there. You really need to stop grabbing the latest magazine pertaining to Cynthia since it drove the market for them. But sometimes, they were just too entertaining.

            “Look at that! So attractive you’re making gay men question themselves!” You tell her as your eyes linger on the last words of the article.

            She groans in response. She’s getting tired of it, and you’re just getting started. Taking the magazine from your hands, you tell her which page to look at.

            “Well, he better not propose, because Cynthia Adams doesn’t suit me.”

            You giggle and watch her toss it on the coffee table.

            “Then again, Jenness has never sounded right, either.”

            You grin at her. “It doesn’t quite fit you, does it? You should take mine.” You feel your heart struggling to catch a beat, as the blood is now all running to your face. You immediately stand up, facing away from her.

            It was a line that didn’t make it into one of your movies. It was really quite terrible, and why you quoted it, you weren’t too sure. It was practically a proposal, after all.

            “I’m,” your hands start fidgeting, and you struggle to not slip into French just yet, “going to…to check your afternoon appointments! To see if there are any!” Your mastery of the English language was truly astounding.

            Once you were out of sight, you gripe to yourself in French. You complain that you’ve begun to develop romantic feelings for her, and that it’s driving you insane. You wish you could just act completely on those feelings, and that you could at least have some sort of gauge on how she felt for you, too.

            You know she still doesn’t understand you. Part of you wished she did, that way you could just get that out of the way as well.

            Away from the situation, you lean against the door, giving yourself a few seconds to calm down. You were turning into quite the mess.

 

 

 

            For two painstaking years, life continued that way. There was no line between your relationship now. There was hardly anything professional to it. You went from tiptoeing around it, to dancing straight over it, leaving it out of sight.

            Flirty remarks and touches that last too long happen on a near regular basis. She flirts with you, and never before has anyone ever been able to fluster you so easily.

            With each challenger that she faced, you almost wish that she would lose, but at the same time, you know how painful it is, and wouldn’t wish that kind of pain on her.

           

 

 

            “I’ll give you three guesses as to what the newest tabloids are saying about you, dear Cynthia.” You move from standing in front of her, to sit on her bed. Maybe you made a bit of a show out of the action, but the way she watches your every move fills you with the best kind of anxiety.

            “Surprise me,” she tells you.

            That wasn’t fun. “Not interested in playing my games?” You ask, batting your eyes at her. Granted, the game you were currently playing was much different from the one you mentioned. Cynthia was playing along marvelously.

            “Trust me, I’m interested.” _Marvelously_.

           You laugh at her, placing aside only two of your magazines. “How about this one then?” You hold out the pink cover to her. “I was surprised to find they had an international section! It’s even translated!” Granted, you could have translated for her, and probably made a show out of that as well. Thinking on it, it was a shame there wasn’t a French copy.

            She flips through its pages, stopping on what you assume is your picture.

            “I didn’t read into it too much. I wanted to be surprised! Tell me, are they still telling legends of how I disappeared? How I took my money and got the hell out?” You ask, getting a little too invested in the answer.

            It was entertaining, but you were losing sight of your original game.

            When she sits beside you, you have no trouble balancing the two. She’s silent as she reads, and it takes all your restraint to not move anything too soon.

            The second it’s back in your hand, you put it aside.

            “Well, they’re speculating that you bought a bunch of land somewhere in the countryside of Kalos. You picked the rose garden over Lumiose City.”

            You laugh again, and take notice of her gripping the comforter.

            “ _Krigia biflora,_ actually,” you tell her. Her questioning look prompts you to continue. “It’s a type of flower. If there were any garden of flowers I picked over Lumiose City, it would be those, not roses.” Of course, she didn’t need to know that the common name for those flowers was two-flower Cynthia. She didn’t need to tease you over your seemingly useless knowledge of flowers.

            She leans back on her hands, brushing yours in the process. The simple gesture is enough to insight butterflies.

            “I think you had it right.”

            You now give her a questioning look.

            “At first, I didn’t really understand giving up stardom, but now, after all the tabloids and unwanted attention, I think I get it. I’m realizing that maybe this isn’t what I want in life.”

            You lean in towards her, knowing it was as perfect of a moment as any other. Though, up until now, restraint had never pained you. “What is it you’re wanting then, dear Cynthia?”

            You know the answer at this point, but you just want to hear her say it.

            “I’m going to be stupid and tell you there’s only one thing I want at the moment.” It wasn’t stupid. It wasn’t stupid at all. The “you” was implied.

            “May I kiss you?”

            Her answer was evident on her lips as she kissed you with years worth of pent up frustration.

            The position was uncomfortable, and the second you were in her lap every last thread of decency you had remaining came undone. Not only was it exhilarating to be getting physical with someone, the fact that it was _her_ under you made all the difference. Years of acting experience couldn’t keep you from expressing every raw emotion, not that you would even want to hide it from her.

            Her hands slipped up your thighs as she kissed your neck, and you were helpless to surrender to the feeling. Even though you started out confident, she was now in full control, but you couldn’t be happier.

           

           

 

            Leaning against the door, you slowly slid down to sit on the floor, clutching at your dress. The high from the evening had yet to wear off, and it would probably be a few hours before it did.

            “Je crois que je t’aime,” you mumble aloud. The phrase alone sends your heart racing all over again.

            If only you had experienced this feeling before, maybe then your last films wouldn’t have suffered. Then again, if your last films hadn’t suffered, you probably would have never gotten this close to Cynthia. That was a fate you didn’t want to think about.

            The downfall of your career might have been horrible at first, but now, there wasn’t anywhere else you’d rather be.

            Except maybe back with Cynthia.

 

 

 

            Cynthia didn’t enjoy green rooms in the way that you did. You enjoyed them for the fact that they provided quiet and calm before an interview. Cynthia seemed to enjoy them because it suddenly provided the perfect opportunity to tease you.

            When she handed you her nail file, you couldn’t help but notice that her nails were trimmed just as nicely as your own.

            “Are you teasing me, dear Cynthia?” You ask her.

            “Me? Never,” she responds, walking away to follow the caller.

            Crossing your legs, you make dramatic huff as you go about filing your nails. You knew exactly what she was doing, because you had been doing the same.

            After a few minutes, you were finally able to watch the whole interview on the closed circuit tv. At the end of the day, many of the interviews were scripted in a sense. There were only so many questions they knew they could get away with, and only so many Cynthia would be willing to answer.

            If your memory served correctly, though, they always asked a certain question without fail.

            “So, is there anyone special in your life at the moment?”

            And there it was. The same question had been asked of you countless times.

            You stop filing your nails to see what her answer would be. There was no official title between the two of you –yet– and you wondered how she would answer.

            “You could say that.”

            Her answer brought a smile to your face, and you resumed your work, finishing your last nail.

            It didn’t take long for her to finally return to you. Her face told you she was going to beg to never do a talk show interview ever again. “I can already hear the tabloids printing,” you tease.

            “Let’s go. I’m done with this, and I’m ready to get out of this dress,” she tells you.

            How you actually got her to wear the dress even you weren’t sure. You hadn’t been particularly flirty when you asked her to wear it, and you didn’t think your pout was enough to actually convince her.

            It fit her figure wonderfully, and it took every ounce of your restraint to not steal too many glances at her.

            Once back at the hotel, you offer to help her get out of her dress, and even though your tone was innocent enough, anyone could have seen the double meaning in your words.

            You weren’t supposed to make her late to the dinner she was invited to, but leaving red kisses on her was far more desirable on both your parts.

 

 

 

            “It took them long enough to run this article,” you tell her, reading over the magazine.

            “Five years too late,” Cynthia responds.

            Five years, and one careers too late, to be exact. In that time, many other articles surfaced as to what happened to the Sinnoh Champion, but it took them five years to finally put together that she had run away from it all with her manager.

            The rose garden was far more preferable to any square of a large city.

 

 

 


End file.
